Rho and the Doctor
by rlaska
Summary: A mysterious stranger appears on the Tardis with no knowledge of the Doctor, or himself. Can the Doctor help Rho recover his memories and find his home? Intended to be a quasi-serious contemplation of philosophical concepts, along with some fun adventures in history and literature. This is an AU story set between The Vampires of Venice and Amy's Choice. Rated T "just in case."
1. Chapter 1: Introduction

**Intro**

Greetings, gentle reader! Wait, too formal, too 18th-century? Ok.

Hey guys! This is my first foray into FanFic, after enjoying many wonderful stories such as RaggedyTimeTraveler's "When I Began to Run" ( goo-dot-gl/Go1z3E ) and RazielLordOfSquirrels' "A Captain and a Madman" ( goo-dot-gl/NGGVor ).

My main purpose for this fanfic is to "discuss" various philosophical/religious concepts with the Doctor, and to have friendly conversations/disagreements with him. Yes, I said religious. Hang on, don't leave me just yet. I've read a good bit of campy/preachy Doctor Who fanfics, and I don't have any desire to make this story like that. My intention is to make religious concepts a part of my character's process of self-discovery, **not** to use this fanfic as a platform to lecture my readers (or the Doctor himself). I'm nothing if not polite. :)

I prefer to keep the Doctor Who timeline as undisturbed as possible, so similar to how some comic books operate, this story is set in between two stories from the show, specifically "Vampires of Venice" and "Amy's Choice." So, my only real change to the Whoniverse (at least to begin with) is that the Doctor's companions go home for a little while between those two episodes.

I hope you enjoy the story. This first chapter starts off kind of slow and laborious (I spent what seemed like an eternity proofreading it repeatedly), but the chapters after this _should_ be more interesting, but there _won't_ be a lot of "action" (violence) in them, and no sex (sorry, thrill seekers).

Anyway, sorry for the insanely long introduction, here is Chapter 1!:

* * *

Rho and the Doctor

* * *

The first thing I remember is lying face down on a pane of glass, my vision blurry and my head swimming. I could vaguely make out some tubes and wiring on the level below me, glowing an eerie green. I struggled to think clearly in the haze of dull pain, my ears ringing with the assault of foreign sounds.

Overwhelmed with all of these sensory stimuli, I lost consciousness for what I assume was a few minutes.

I came to as I heard initially casual, and then increasingly urgent footsteps against the glass coming in my direction, but I didn't bother to look.

"Oi, I don't do visitors!" said a quizzical and rather annoyed British-sounding voice.

I tried to lift myself up to my hands and knees to respond, but all I could do was weakly move my arms and utter an incomprehensible "Mmmmph."

I felt a pair of hands grasping me on the side and shoulder as I was gently turned to lie on my back. The movement was uncomfortable, but I was happy to have my weight resting on my back now, rather than on my face, knees and ribs. The room had started to spin in reverse as I was turned, but it settled back into the now-familiar slow, planar spin once I was on my back.

I tried opening my eyes again, but the overhead lights were too bright. Squinting, I could only see a vague form of a man bending over me.

I then saw a small green light being waved above me, and a not-particularly-pleasing buzzing noise emanating from the light.

The buzzing ceased, and I heard that same British voice say (in a more concerned and less demanding tone), "I don't know who you are, but you're in quite a state. You're body is practically bathed in Hilaron particles, and I haven't seen those since pretty much the dawn of time. Not really sure why they're on _you_ , but they're starting to dissipate now. How about telling me your name, and why and _how_ you snuck on to my ship."

What the hell? I wanted to demand where I was and who **he** was, but all I could muster was an annoyed groan. At this point, my eyes had adjusted to the brightness of the room, but my vision was still very hazy.

After a moment, the stranger helped me sit up straight on the glass floor, and my vision cleared. I beheld the man before me, all gangly limbs and ridiculous floppy hair. I studied him for a moment as the vertigo settled and the ringing in my ears began to dissipate. Looking around at my surroundings did **not** help my feeling of confusion: there was a central column of glass and metal, and the roof was made of a sail-like material with concentric rings emanating from the column. The walls were oddly shaped and decorated, and the layout was _spastic_.

The man reached into his tweed jacket and produced an ordinary-looking mint.

"Here," he said, "this will help clear your head."

I didn't have any idea what a mint could do for my head, but being highly suggestible in that stupor, I took the mint. It had a very pleasant, almost effervescent flavor that started to clear my mind like a really good, strong cup of tea on a winter night.

"Right. Glad you're better," he said. "Mind telling me who you are and how you got here?"

"Well, my name is R–––", I started to reply, but it was like the words fell right off my tongue. My vision blurred again for a moment, my mind went completely blank, and I found myself unable to complete the sentence or recall any of what I was about to say.

The green buzzing thing was back out and waving around in a flash.

"Your neural traces are sort of... coalescing into a stable pattern. It must be a side effect of the Hilaron radiation. Can you remember your name? You were about to say it, R-something."

I strained to remember. Whatever I might have known about myself the moment before was completely gone. I was a blank slate, at least as far as self-knowledge was concerned.

"I can't remember what I was going to say! I can't remember my name, or where I live, or anything else!" I replied in alarm.

"It's all right, don't go all collywobbles," the lanky man replied, "I can help you. First, let's start with your name. You said R-something, but I obviously can't just call you 'R.' So, I don't suppose you could be a Robert… or Rudolph? How about Randall or Richard or Raymond or Roger?"

I shook my head, "No, none of those sound familiar at all, although I can't be totally sure. I really don't know how I got here, or where I am. You said I'm on a _ship_?"

I looked around again at the metallic room, the central console which looked like it was cobbled together from years of garage sale finds, and at the visually loud decorations in unusual shapes all around the room.

"Looks more like a fun house to me," I said curtly.

"Oi! Don't insult the ship!" the lanky man retorted. "She's... sensitive."

He gently touched the console beside him, which seemed to respond with a sympathetic hum... But I'm not sure if I really heard that or if it was just my ears ringing a little bit again.

This was really getting weird, but I didn't have the strength yet to get up and find an exit, assuming we were at port, and assuming this was a ship at all, which seemed very unlikely.

The man looked pensive for a moment, and then said, "Right. Since you can't seem to remember your name, how about we just call you _Rho_ for now?"

I didn't really like the sound of that. "Ro? Is that a girl's name?"

"No, no. It's _Greek_. R-h-o, it's the 17th letter of the Greek alphabet. It's…" the man smirked, "quite manly. And a lot cooler than being called 'R'."

"Okay," I said," Rho it is... for now. And you are?"

The lanky Brit smiled as he helped me to my feet. "I'm the Doctor."

"The Doctor?" I said, quizzically.

"Yes, the Doctor."

"That's your real name? I mean... did your parents hate you or what?"

The Doctor almost looked hurt, "No, it's a *fantastic* name, and it's the name that I chose."

"I guess we have that in common. What's wrong with your given name?"

The Doctor looked uncomfortable for a second, and then changed the subject, "So, Rho. What can you remember about yourself? Or... your world?"

I looked down at the glass paneled floor and the round support column below as I tried to remember something, anything about myself or my life.

"I can't really remember anything, Doctor."

"Ohh-kay. Well, see if you can tell me this: what year is it?"

I thought for a moment. "I don't know for sure. What year *is* it?"

The Doctor paused. "Here's the thing: we need to determine which year you remember the last, or if you have any consciousness of time at all. It will help, for reasons that are… very complicated and Sciency-wiency."

"Uhh... right. Well, you're the ship's Doctor. How do we proceed?"

"I'm going to rattle off some years, and you tell me whether they sound familiar to you:

2050"

I laughed: "I'm guessing that's fairly far off in the future. The number doesn't seem real to me." I looked down and noticed my clothes for the first time - striped dress shirt, no tie, slacks, and loafers. Not shabby, but no real clues on who I am or where I'm from.

"No, I didn't think so, but I had to be sure," the Doctor replied. Noticing my brief self-examination, he added, "Your attire suggests early 21st century, but there are always retro waves, so I had to check."

"Wait a second," I said, "you make it sound like *you* don't know what year it is."

The Doctor chuckled, "Of course I know. Purely neurological diagnostic questions, I assure you. Let's continue. I name a year, and you give me your first impression, completely unfiltered."

"Okay."

"19... 75!" the doctor said, as if to surprise me.

I thought for a second, and shook my head. "Nothing about that year seems familiar to me. I don't know if I was even alive back then."

"2005"

"Mmm, I feel like I lived through that year. I can't remember what I did during that time (or any other), but the number itself means something to me."

"What about 2010?" the Doctor asked pointedly.

"That sounds like a familiar year, but definitely in the past."

"Are you certain?"  
"I think so."

The Doctor stood pensive for a while after I said that. "Well... that's _interesting_."

I started getting a bit concerned. "Why? Where are we, anyway? Are we out at sea or docked? I'm not feeling any waves."

The Doctor beamed, spreading his arms wide, "Oh, we're definitely out at sea, mate... as far out as it gets!"

He then whirled around and flicked a few switches on the console behind him, and then a large circular screen on the other side of the room flickered on.

I walked forward and looked at the picture on the screen. It looked like a video of some strange tube of fire, and then morphed to be a cool blue plasma-like material.

"What is that, a video game?" I said, curiously.

"Vid— no, that's the Time Vortex! I'd open the doors to give you a direct look, but that would be a _really_ bad idea at the moment. We're in the 'space' in between all points of time!"

I looked at him completely befuddled, and then noticed a pair of very out-of-place-looking wooden doors to the left of the screen. Something about those doors was really unnerving. What kind of modern ship has wooden doors? Nothing about this place made any sense.

I moved slowly towards the door and noticed the same pattern of colors coming through the small windows.

I stepped closer.

Pulsing, swirling streams of energy coursed around in chaotic patterns just outside of that door.

That. _Wooden_. Door.

I turned to face the Doctor.

"What the heck is this place?! Is this some sort of mad house for mad scientists?" I shouted.

I turned again to look for a moment at the mesmerizing convolution of chaotic colors, and then slowly backed away from the **painfully** ordinary door which was the only thing protecting me from whatever the heck that energy discharge was. I felt my back bump against a metal railing, and I spun around and instinctively tried to run up the stairs, but found myself suddenly sitting down on the third step, holding on to the railing for dear life, as if the room was about to suddenly turn on its side.

I looked up at the Doctor to see the excitement (and blood) drain from his face as he took in my horrified expression. He came and sat down on the tan chair to the left of me.

"I'm sorry, really very sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I… get carried away some times. I can see that this was far too much at this stage."

I looked at him with wide-eyed terror and anger.

"The thing is, when most of my friends meet me, they meet me on Earth. _Then_ , I get to show them the TARDIS, and introduce them to space/time travel, but with you, everything got a bit out of order. It's sort of a big high point for me, watching the wonder on people's faces when they see the TARDIS or… other wonderful places for the first time."

The feelings fear and anger began to dissipate as I observed the Doctor gesticulating wildly as he tried to explain himself. Humor crept into my face in spite of my anger and bewilderment: I still didn't know what to think about what he was saying about time travel, but I couldn't help smile at his funny demeanor. It was almost like his arms were the arms of a suit tailored a few inches too long, and he was still trying to figure out how to use them.

"Wait, did you say the Tah-dis?" I replied.

The Doctor smiled and motioned all around him in a proud, sweeping motion, "She's the TARDIS: Time and Relative Dimension In Space. She's my ship."

The interior seemed to hum almost proudly with his statement.

"I can tell you _one_ thing about yourself, Rho," the Doctor smirked, "you're definitely an American."

I blinked. "I guess I am. I never really thought about that."

The Doctor laughed good-naturedly at my simplistic comment.

I relaxed my iron grip and let go of the railing.

"I guess you're from the U.K., then?"

The Doctor stopped smiling. "Umm, no. Not exactly. I just... spend a lot of time there."

I got the feeling that he didn't want to talk about his origins, so I continued asking about practical matters.

"So, I guess you regularly go back to Earth from this... time vortex place." I still didn't really believe his story about where we were, but I didn't know what to do, other than humor this odd man in an odd ship. For all I knew, we could both be delusional. "Is anyone else here? ...in your... ship?"

"No, just the two of us at the moment, I dropped the kids off at home for a bit after our adventure in Venice."

"Oh, so you have children!" I said happily.

I instantly regretted saying that. Immediately there rose in that skinny man's eyes such a cloud of darkness and anger that I scooted up one stair instinctively.

As soon as it came, it was gone.

"Oh, no, just some friends!" the Doctor said _extremely_ cheerfully, and then was quiet for a while.

I looked at the unpredictable character before me suspiciously.

The Doctor looked up, "Are you hungry? I picked up this fantastic pasta maker in 2051. It's called the Pastamatic! It doesn't just make the pasta, it prints out the whole meal, pasta, sauce, and all!"

My stomach grumbled in spite of my wariness. Did he say 2051?

"You mean there's more to your ship than this… rumpus room?"

The Doctor laughed. "It's the control room. You might call it a bridge or helm. Let's go to the cafeteria!"

"You have a cafeteria on board… but you're alone."

"Well, you never know when you'll have uninvited visitors," the Doctor smirked, "so I keep things well stocked. There's the cafeteria, chef's kitchen, informal kitchen, scullery, larder, entertainment center with **five centuries** of movies, antigrav rec room, and just wait until you see the library!"

I didn't understand a couple of the words he said, but the library intrigued me, at least.

"All right then," I said, "let's eat. I could go for some lasagna about now. At least I can remember what I like to eat!"


	2. Chapter 2: Lunch on the TARDIS

**Rho and the Doctor: Chapter 2: Lunch on the TARDIS**

Back on track!

SO, it's been over a year since I posted a chapter. Sorry about that, guys! I'm sure you know how it's like. This is a much shorter chapter (1/3 the size of chapter 1), just so I could get one published and not get bogged down on proofreading big chapters (it actually helps).

Any feedback I get from you guys is very helpful and appreciated!

####

I stood in front of the shiny metallic-framed machine that looked like a DIY 3D printer gone awry. I slid my plate onto the build surface, watched the acrylic door shut by itself, and selected lasagna from the transparent touchscreen on the front. Suddenly a print head with a forest of pipettes, tubes, and other attachments zoomed down onto the plate and moved with incredible speed, building my lunch from the plate up. After about 20 seconds and a blurry frenzy of tubes and lasers, my lunch was ready to eat.

The now steam-fogged door of the Pastamatic slid up, and I retrieved my hot plate of Lasagna from it. Looking around the cafeteria, I would have thought that I was in a 1950s-themed diner, with lots of shiny chrome embellishments on the furniture and comfy red booths lining the walls. It wasn't a very big room, but there were many different kinds of food dispensers on one side, which seemed to be from different eras, if not different planets altogether.

I noted where the Doctor was sitting, and took a seat before him. Instead of pasta, he had before him a platter with several fish sticks, and in the center, a medium-sized bowl filled with some kind of thick, yellow sauce.

Too hungry to inquire about his meal, I murmured, "Bon apetit" and dove in. The pasta was perfectly cooked (neither soggy nor too firm), and the meat sauce was very flavorful, with a nice little punch of spice. As I hungrily began devouring my lasagna, I watched as the Doctor happily grabbed one fish stick at a time, dipped it in the very thick sauce, and ate it with quiet satisfaction.

After a few large mouthfuls of my lasagna, I regained enough manners to inquire about the Doctor's meal, "Didn't feel like having pasta? Is that Hollandaise sauce with your fish sticks? Must be incredibly rich."

The doctor smiled while finishing up the fish stick in his hand. "Well first of all, they're fish *fingers* - at least that was the name on the box. And it's not Hollandaise, it's sweet custard."

I looked at the Doctor rather bewilderedly.

"I know, nobody thinks it's any good, but it's actually fantastic. The sweet and the savory work together just right. It's my favorite comfort food. Long story," the Doctor smiled.

Now this is the point of the story where most people ask, "Why the heck are you just _sitting_ there, having lunch with this deranged Willy Wonka-esque 'time traveler' guy"? In my defense, I must say that the stomach is probably the most _pragmatic_ organ in the human body (see _The Odyssey_ : book 7, card 5 – goo-dot-gl/viURFi), and if you were hungry enough, you'd probably eat lunch with an axe murderer, as long as the axe wasn't nearby. The other thing is, I didn't exactly have anywhere to GO. Hanging out on this guy's ship (or whatever it was) is as good a bet as being dropped off in the middle of some random city with no money, no connections, and no provisions (not to mention no memory or identity). He was the best bet I had at that moment to get some answers, and that wasn't going to happen on an empty stomach.

After shoveling down the last bit of delicious lasagna, I looked at the Doctor, "So Doctor… I guess since I don't have much of anything I can tell you about myself, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself?"

The Doctor shot back a challenging smile, "Not much to say, Rho, it's not a complicated life, when you think about it. There's me, the ship, some friends I pick up along the way, adventures in various places and… lots of running."

Not sure what to do with that non-answer, I replied honestly, "That's lovely, but how are you going to get me home? Or get my identity back? I don't mean to be rude–––what you do in your... ship is up to you. But I was brought here beyond my own volition, and I really need some answers."

Contrary to my assumptions, the Doctors eyes did not narrow or grow sharp hard. He just paused for a moment, and replied,

"I understand, Rho, and I will do everything I can to get you home. You need to be patient, and I'm sorry, but I may very well be your only hope of finding where you belong. I did not abduct you, and I am putting my own plans on hold to see you delivered safely back to your loved ones, whoever and wherever they may be."

His words were like the carefully meted-out words of a career diplomat, but with some of the warmth of a parent. I felt stupid for barking at him and looked down to think for a moment.

The Doctor interrupted the silence, "Well, let's be off then!"

"What are we going to do now? Is there some kind of lost-and-found for people who can't remember who they are?"

"Actually, there's an advanced hospital in New New— _ahem_ , New York that might be able to help you recover your memories. At least, if it is still around. Things were in a pretty sad state when I was there last, but I'm confident that the huma––– the people there have rebuilt it by now, without the issues they had before. We can go tomorrow."

"Ok, great! So, how close are we to...?"

The sentence trailed off and my expression froze as I remembered my encounter with the Time Vortex just an hour prior in the control room. I quickly shifted my focus to the present to avoid thinking about the unthinkable, but the Doctor noticed my pause.

"Sorry again about… scaring you earlier. To answer your question, we're not far from there, or anywhere else for that matter. It's difficult to explain what the time vortex is, but think of it this way: Imagine that the entire universe and the entirety of time is actually a piece of paper. Roll that up into a tube, and imagine we are in the hollow part of the tube, nearly equidistant from any point on the tube itself: both everywhere and nowhere at once."

"Uhh… okay?"  
"Well, it's nothing like that, but if that helps..."

I shook my head, "So it won't take long to get to New York?"  
"No time at all," the Doctor smirked.


	3. Chapter 3: Home Away

**Rho and the Doctor: Chapter 3: Home Away**

Another chapter complete! This one is longer than the previous, and establishes a lot more character development.

I know all the creative writing people say that storytelling is all about conflict, but I am taking my time to establish conflict very slowly, more like in Anime.

I hope you guys enjoy the story, and please give me feedback! Thanks!

##########################################################

The Doctor leisurely finished off his last fish finger, "Before we go, we need to get you some quarters, and I have to finish some navigational calibration."

We put our trays onto a conveyor belt (which I guessed went to some kind of automated dishwasher), and I followed him out of the shiny chrome cafeteria down a corridor.

The gray metal interior of the TARDIS felt simultaneously futuristic and old: futuristic like a space station, but also oddly ancient, like walking through the old parts of any large European town: not run down or dilapidated, but in possession of a special charm of its own. I heard unusual sounds while walking down the corridor: the sound of distant engines thrumming, but occasionally something like a metallic sigh.

We passed by some doors with names on it like "Mary Jane", "Donna," and "Amy & Rory."

"Say Doctor, who are Amy and Rory?"

"Oh, they're a couple friends that travel with me. They're back home from their honeymoon now."

"What about the others?"

The Doctor paused a moment.

"Well, those are old friends that used to travel with me, but they're no longer..."

"Here!" The Doctor stopped at a door with a blank nameplate.

"Anyway, this is really simple. Just hold the palm of your hand against the access plate on the side of the door, and the empathic circuitry will automatically configure a room for you. I've actually been wanting to see what it comes up with; it might give us some clues about you," the Doctor said while gesticulating excitedly.

I stepped up to the door and put my hand on the metal plate to the right. I held it there for about a minute, and it slowly grew warm. Several seconds later, the access plate beeped and the door slid open.

I stepped inside the brand new room and took in the sights: wooden floors and simple, elegant furniture, a bookcase built into the wall and a grand piano adjacent to it in the corner. There were a few simple nature paintings on the walls, but nothing ostentatious. I took in the visual warmth and calm of the room like I was coming home from a long trip. While I didn't recognize the layout of the room or any of the objects in it, there was a general familiarity of comfort in the place. It was ME, whoever "me" is.

"It's beautiful," I muttered to myself.

A now-familiar voice behind me said, "May I?"

I turned around to see the Doctor standing politely outside the door.

"It's your ship."

"It's **your** room."

"Very well then, come on in."

The Doctor smiled and gracefully entered, chin, grin, and bowtie first.

Looking around, he muttered, "Blimey! **Well** done, old girl! I've never seen the configuration matrix operate at this level before. It's really very elegant, but with a homey feel. Sort of an odd mix of traditional Scandinavian summer home and posh urban apartment."

"Is _this_ a copy of my real-life apartment? Can the TARDIS send me home based on this?"

"No, it's not really like that. You see, the TARDIS is able to create a room based on what you might _like_ , or what would suit you best, but she doesn't know where you actually live, or what your actual home looks like. I've been waiting to try out the empathy matrix—It's been in beta for a while."

"Why do you keep referring to your ship as a **she** , and 'Old Girl'?"

The Doctor waved his arms about, "Well, you know. Old sailors and their ships, and all that. We've got a lot of history."

"Riiight."

Looking behind me, the Doctor motioned towards the piano, "Do you play?"

I stammered, "I don't think so."

"Try it!" he said with a smirk.

I shrugged and moved to the piano. After pulling out the seat and opening the keyboard cover, I stared at the keys for a moment.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, and let my fingers just fall on some keys. Without even trying, my hands fell upon a simple chord progression, which slowly morphed into a sweet, haunting melody. I didn't feel like an experienced pianist, but I greatly enjoyed the process of experimenting.

While I was "playing," the Doctor moved over to the bookcase on the wall to my left, sat down on the love seat and started leafing through a few of the books. After I played for a couple minutes, I stopped and looked at the Doctor.

"What kind of books do I have?"

"Mostly classics, primarily the Greeks. A few Greek tragedies and a couple different copies of Hamlet and… Hmm!"

"What?"

There's also a spatially-compressed copy of the Summa Theologica, some Augustine, John Chrysostom, and a few Bibles–––are you... _**religious**_ , Rho?"

I was startled for a moment, but suddenly a rich, deep laugh escaped my lips and filled the room. I had never laughed like that before, and the sound of my own billowing laugh in that little room of that crazy ship seemed to recall me to a life and a reality just beyond the reach of memory.

After I looked back up, I noticed the Doctor looking at me somewhat bemused, though with a measure of humor.

"Right, I'll take that as a yes, then."

I stuttered. "What? Nooo! I mean don't think so, anyway."

The Doctor put the book he was reading down on his lap. "No difference to me, Rho. I've seen **millions** of religions... from the sun-singers of Akhet, to the Blindness cult of Zaranshi. I mean, I won't say they're all the same to me, but they seem to tell very similar stories, when you get down to it. And sometimes a good story is all that really matters."

"Doctor, that's very interesting, but it sounds counter-intuitive to me. How do you sort out the truth from so many conflicting creation stories and such?"

"Well, I don't suppose you do. There's lots of truths and lessons in every culture's stories, but I don't see any of them as **the** truth, not even the ones I was raised with. You don't have to believe a culture's stories, but you respect what they do for the person who does believe, and for what role it plays in their culture. Why disagree when you can just get on?"

"I guess that makes sense. So does the TARDIS know what I've read?"

"No, no. Just like the apartment configuration itself, the circuit only knows the kind of thing you might _like_ reading. Think of it as an empathic aesthetic pickup."

"Umm, ok."  
"How does the TARDIS configure the room? I didn't hear any equipment moving furniture around… Is this room really real, or is it something like a hologram?"

"Hologram?" the Doctor turned toward me and laughed. "No mate, it's totally real. It's a real as anything else on the TARDIS. She just… instantiates it in the configuration desired, like a computer formatting a disk. You might call it "bespoke engineering," but it's closer to raw maths, if that makes sense."

I looked at him and blinked.

The Doctor changed the subject, "Let's look around! The old girl might have a few more surprises in store for you."

Walking down the corridor, we discovered a smallish bedroom with an old-fashioned roll-top writing desk opposite a futon bed.

I sat down at the antique chair and rolled back the desk cover. There was a small stack of stationery and envelopes, a few small glass bottles of old-fashioned liquid pen ink, a drawer full of old fashioned steel dip pens and fountain pens, and a beautiful old brown leather-bound journal, which was blank. I poked around in the little nooks and mini-drawers, and found scraps of writing paper and a roll of blotting paper.

"This is really nice, but no laptop? No television?"

"Well, the room is configured in the way that is most suitable for you. We can always add a TV or computer, but for now, I think you should try to enjoy your room _as it is_. Besides, there's always things to do on the TARDIS, you won't be stuck in your apartment—that's not even mentioning all the worlds there are to see!"

I got up, closed the roll top, and we walked into the open kitchen/dining room. There was a large picture window and a door on the far wall, and when I pulled back the curtains, I stood spellbound at what I saw.

"Unbeliev––– How can it be real!?"

The Doctor smirked while opening the door.

We stepped out upon a porch that had a couple of lawn chairs and a small glass coffee table. A crisp, cold, exhilarating breeze hit my face as I looked out onto the snowy forest behind the apartment. I inhaled deeply and gazed out onto the drooping snow-encumbered branches of the forest as the bracing air chilled my lungs.

Turning in amazement towards the Doctor, "HOW CAN THERE BE A FOREST ON YOUR SHIP?!"

The Doctor smiled like an elder explaining something simple to a child, "There isn't really. The forest you see is really just the smart wallpaper on the back wall of the patio. It looks and sounds like a forest, and there's even a breeze. But if you walk forward, you will encounter the wall."

I walked towards the porch railing with my hand outstretched. As my feet reached the railing, my hand landed upon a cool, hard surface a little less than a meter beyond the railing. The view of the forest didn't change a bit, and although my hand felt like it was pressing against a wall, it looked to my eyes as if I was merely holding my hand out in front of me, with an unlimited expanse of forest just beyond my outstretched arm.

The Doctor sat down on one of the patio chairs looked out thoughtfully, "Nice spot for a cuppa, and some calm reflection. I haven't seen the Old Girl whip up quarters quite like this before."

"You mean the others—"

"Bunks, mostly, also some simple bedrooms. Nice and efficient," the Doctor smirked.

"Why did I get such groovy digs?"

"Remember, the configuration circuit is _empathic_. The TARDIS senses what you need: biologically, environmentally, emotionally, and configures a room. But… the TARDIS isn't a cruise ship, she's a ship of exploration — few luxuries, and **NO** weapons. Never, never any weapons on my ship. Not even during—

" _Anyway_ , I think she sensed what you need most is a good place to put your feet up: a few good square meters to call home, while you try and figure out where home actually IS."

I didn't know take it all in, but I couldn't help but feel heartfelt gratitude towards my quirky host.

"How about I try and figure out how to make some tea in this apartment?"

The Doctor jumped up nimbly, "I'll have to get a rain check. You've had quite an eventful day, and I still have to finish recalibrating the navigation vectors against the center of this galactic cluster if we're going to get anywhere. Get some rest, we're going to New York tomorrow! It can be an… unpredictable city."

"Say Doctor, where's **your** room?"

"Oh, it's in the same corridor, but you'll practically never see me in it."

"How come? Don't you need to rest like every else? Don't you need a space of your own?"

The Doctor smiled, "Oh I get plenty enough rest here and there, and as far as a place of my own, the TARDIS _is_ my place, and I get as much time alone as I need... _or can handle_. Besides, the real world is **right out the front door**! The beautiful, the terrible, the awe-inspiring, the revolting, the savage, and the kindly, all beyond those doors. So why stay holed up in here the whole time?"

"Wow… But you're not always away from the TARDIS, are you? Where do you stay when you're not sleeping or adventuring?"

"Right in the control room, where you first appeared."

"Why the control room? Can't a TARDIS–––whatever that actually is–––pilot itself without constant supervision?"

He grinned widely, "You'd be surprised… but of course it _can_. It's not that I _have_ to be in the control room, but it's like... it's like a book you **really** love, and you read it as much as you can, even though you feel like you already know all there is to know about it. Know what I mean?"

I still don't know why, but those words resounded in me, and almost congealed to form a memory, but no matter how hard I thought about it, I couldn't figure out what it was reminding me of. I blinked a few times and looked down, but the Doctor didn't seem to take notice, or at least didn't react.

"Yeah, I think I know what that feels like, but I can't remember which book it was that I loved so much."


End file.
